


In The Bathroom

by iamisaac



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Self-Harm, dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-05 01:31:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3100037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamisaac/pseuds/iamisaac





	In The Bathroom

_**Harry Potter: Remus/Regulus**_  
Harry Potter  
Remus/Regulus  
NC17  
1556 words  
trigger warnings for self-harm and chan (15 year old)  


It was the nearest bathroom to the Potions classroom, but the least used. Cold, dank and usually dark, most students needed to be absolutely desperate in order to go into it. But Remus had suffered privations much worse than this and survived. He liked the room for its very desolate bleakness; somewhere he could think in peace. He pushed open the door and went in.

Went in, and stumbled. There was someone already there, sitting on the floor – and Remus had just fallen over him.

“I'm sor-” Remus began, as he looked down. Then he realised who and what he was seeing. Regulus Black, Sirius's brother. Not just that, but... Regulus Black, covered in blood. “Dear god,” he said, almost whispering in disbelief, “what's happened to you?”

“Nothing.” The majority of the blood, Remus noticed (his mind still numb with shock) was on Reg's arms. Reg put his hands across himself protectively, trying to cover the cuts up.

“You need the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey. I'll just -”

“DON'T.” The word was almost yelled. Regulus was looking up at Remus with large, pleading eyes. It was strange, Remus thought, the way that Reg looked so similar to Sirius and yet had expressions which were so un-Sirius-like. Just as now. Remus had known Sirius for over six years, but still couldn't imagine seeing that particular look of fear and desperation in his face.

“Reg,” he said softly, “you're hurt. You need help.” He suddenly noticed the knife, held loosely in one of Regulus's hands. Reg, seeing his gaze, dropped it quickly, sliding it under his robes as if to hide it.

“I don't. I'm fine. Please – please, don't.” Regulus grasped at Remus's robes, as if physically to hold him back from leaving.

“I have to. I'm a prefect.” Then, as Reg's eyes seemed to fill with tears, Remus tried to soften his stance. The kid was a Slytherin and a Black - but he was still only a kid. “I could just tell Sirius, maybe. Just your brother.”

“No. Please, please, please, no. Not him. Anyone but him. Anyway,” Reg added shakily, “he's disowned me.”

Remus raised his eyebrows, remembering the circumstances in which Sirius had become estranged from his family. Burned off the family tapestry, as he recalled – and the fact that a family tapestry existed told more than one needed to know about the Blacks and their pure-blood stance. “I rather thought it was the other way around,” he murmured. But the point was irrelevant in the circumstances. Regulus was not to blame for the pure-blood pride he'd had driven into him. And he was hurting. “I must tell someone, Reg.” His voice was gentle - as gentle as his gesture, as he took one of Regulus's hands and pulled it away from the boy's body to look at the deep slashes incised down the outside and inside of his arm. Self inflicted. Reg's shame and embarrassment would have told him that even if it weren't obvious from the cuts themselves, shallower on his dominant arm since his left hand was that much weaker. Remus sighed. “I have to tell.”

“No!”

The tears fell from Regulus's eyes now, dripping down his cheeks almost in a mirror of the blood which dripped down his arms. He clutched harder at Remus's robes, his hand brushing accidentally against Remus's cock. Remus hated himself for the way this inadvertent contact turned him on; he could feel himself stiffening even with that slightest of touches.

“I can't keep this secret,” he said, looking down at Reg's dark head, at the crimson blood-stains on the boy's arms, the rusty-wine stains they'd made on the floor. “I can't not tell Sirius. He's my best friend. How can I keep something like this from him?”

“He doesn't care. Remus, please.”

Remus knew more than anyone that this wasn't true. But Reg would never believe him. And anyway, in the circumstances...

“I have to.” Remus bit his lip; it seemed cruel to insist on something which made Regulus so unhappy, but he had no choice. Something was wrong. Something was so, so wrong that would make a boy do this to himself. And Remus, though he hated the knowledge, knew that he couldn't make it better. Not alone. Reg needed help.

“I could... pay you,” Regulus said hesitantly, looking up at Remus from behind hooded eyes.

Remus recoiled. “God, Regulus Black” - and the surname was an insult, all of Sirius's comments about his family coming back to him - “I don't want your money.”

“I didn't mean that.” Regulus was still clutching at Remus's robes. “I've seen you looking at my broth... at Sirius. You want... but he doesn't know, doesn't want you back. Not that way.” Remus felt the heat of shame rushing unexpectedly to his cheeks. How did Regulus know about that? Was Remus really that obvious? He'd thought his crush, lust, (call it what you wanted) was well hidden. Private. Merlin, was the entire school laughing at his pathetic fantasies? “No one knows,” Reg said hastily, reading Remus's expression accurately. “I've never said anything, and no one else has seen. It's just...”

“I don't know what you mean,” Remus lied, instinctively.

“I know you want him,” Regulus said, wide eyes fixed on Remus. Remus would have looked away, but somehow he couldn't. Not now. “And I look like him.” Regulus's fingers brushed Remus's cock through his robes again, this time with clear intent. “I could...”

“No. Merlin, no. I don't want...” But Regulus had started stroking Remus's cock - slowly and carefully, fingers tentative but sure; and oh god Remus didn't want him to stop. “Don't,” Remus said; but he didn't move away.

Regulus brought his other hand up, bloody fingers undoing the buttons on the lower half of Remus's robes.

“Reg, don't,” Remus said again, weakly. “You don't need to do this.”

“I want to.”

And oh, he looked like Sirius. And oh, his hands were so good, so damn good against Remus's body. And he had undone the buttons, and was sliding a hand inside Remus's boxers, sliding it firm and sure around Remus's cock. And how could something which felt so right be wrong?

“No,” Remus said again, pushing half-heartedly at Regulus's hands. “Really. You mustn't.”

Regulus took no notice, instead leaning forward and – oh fuck, fuck, fuck - taking the tip of Remus's cock into the warmth of his mouth, and there was no way Remus could possibly move, could possibly do anything with Reg doing just that. Regulus leaned further in, taking more of Remus inside him; sucking him further and further in before moving back out and starting again. Remus's hands and eyes were both clenched shut – if he didn't see, it wasn't happening; if he didn't think, it really could be Sirius in front of him, Sirius with his mouth around Remus's cock. Either way... God help him, there was nothing he could do, no way he could protest against such a persuasively wanton argument. His fingers, despite himself, loosened to tangle in Regulus's black hair (so like Sirius's); he felt himself thrusting his hips towards the younger boy – and Reg took, and took, and kept on taking everything Remus was giving.

“Ahhhhhhhhhhh.”

Remus came, riding a wave he'd only ever found alone before. He came, and saw Regulus, kneeling in front of him. Regulus, with a stream of semen sliding over his chin. A stream of Remus's semen. Sirius's little brother, covered in ejaculate where Remus had come on his face. Exiled from his family or not, Sirius would murder Remus if he knew - and Remus wouldn't blame him.

Regulus's voice, small and pleading, said: “You won't tell? You won't tell on me?” as if he were a naughty five year old.

A naughty five year old whose mouth Remus had just fucked.

“No,” Remus heard himself saying, his self-esteem hitting a rock-bottom it had never before reached, “no, of course I won't.”

Regulus Black, covered in blood and semen. Regulus Black, kneeling at Remus's feet. _Do you really not deserve the disgust your condition gets you from other people, Remus? When you'd sell your soul and your honour for a quick blow job from a fifteen year old kid in a toilet?_ Remus didn't need anyone else to say it aloud: the words were loud enough in his mind as it was.

“If you... if you ever want...” Regulus's voice trailed off, but his meaning was clear.

“No,” said Remus hurriedly, tucking himself away, muttering a cleaning spell.

Later he'd wonder – had he known, even then, that he'd do it again? He'd like to think that he hadn't... but then he'd like to think that the whole episode – the whole affair – had never taken place. When Sirius had commented on the blood-stains on his robe, what had Remus said? When he saw Regulus Black at the Slytherin table, what had Remus remembered?

There were many people, many times, who told or showed Remus how much they despised him. If only they'd known – no one, no one on earth, despised Remus Lupin more than he did himself.


End file.
